“She really kill him?” Bannister said.
“No.”
“And you work for Cone Oakes?”
“Yes.”
“Barry Cone called me,” Bannister said. “How can I help you?”
“Tell me about Mary Smith.”
“Well, I don’t know her very well,” Bannister said. “I knew Nathan a little.”
“They seem happy to you?”
“Sure. I guess so. She was younger. As I said, I’d see them now and then, at charity events, mostly.”
“Did you know them socially?”
“In the sense that we would go out to dinner with them? No.”
“Do you know Larson Graff?”
“Graff?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe so. Who is he?”
“He’s Mary Smith’s PR man.”
Bannister smiled. “Oh,” he said. “Him.”
“You know him?”
“I didn’t know his name,” Bannister said. “Mary is at a lot of affairs without Nathan. Whatsisname escorts her.”
“Did your company insure the Smiths?”
“I don’t really know,” Bannister said. He smiled. “I don’t do much direct selling.”
“Could you find out?” I said.
“Does it say CEO on my door?” he said. “Of course I could find out.”
“Would you?”
Bannister looked as if he might say no. But instead he picked up his phone.
“Allison? Please find out if we have policies on Nathan Smith or Mary Smith.” He looked at me. “Address?”
I gave him the address and he repeated it to Allison.
“Get back to me promptly,” he said and hung up. He seemed confident that he would be gotten back to promptly.
“Aside from walker duties,” I said, “would you know why Mary Smith would need a public relations person?”
“No.”
“Who would know?” I said.
Bannister leaned back in his swivel chair and clasped his hands behind his head.
“Barry Cone’s a buddy of mine,” Bannister said. “He asked me to talk with you. I’m happy to do so. But I don’t get why you’re talking to me. I don’t really know Mary Smith. I don’t know who would know about her. I say hello to her at cocktail parties that I go to because being prominent is part of my job.”
“And Nathan Smith?”
“See him at the Harvard Club once in a while,” Bannister said. “Knew him casually. He was a player.”
“A player?”
“Yes. In the money business.”
“What did he do?” I said.
Bannister smiled. “He fiddled with money.”
“How?”
“Like everybody else,” Bannister said. “He bought and he sold.”
“Stocks and bonds?”
“And real estate, and banks, and, for all I know, lottery tickets.”
“Who would know more about him?” I said.
Bannister shrugged. “His attorney. His broker. His doctor. His priest? I don’t know how to make this clearer. I don’t really know either one of them.”
The phone rang and Bannister answered. He listened, made a couple of notes, said thank you, and hung up.
